


Screaming Infidelities

by Morgawse



Series: The bitter then the sweet [5]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Domestic Violence, F/M, Feeling Trapped, Fist Fights, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Swearing, Threat of abandonment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/Morgawse
Summary: Frank has a jet-black heart, it’s all screwed up, and he’s falling apart after the break-up.  Gerard knows that what he had can never be saved and now he feels like he’s just a rat in a cage, trapped in his new relationship.  Mikey wants to make it better for his brother and his friend, but what can he do? Even his boyfriend Pete, as well as Gerard and Frank, keeps telling him to leave it alone.





	Screaming Infidelities

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovelies. Welcome to Part 5 - Another Frank, another Gerard. Another screwed up relationship with Mikey trapped in the middle.
> 
> Some words of warning, there is as usual for me angst, alcohol abuse, swearing, some fighting verbally & physically. Also if the idea of a man considering (& only considering) leaving a woman he got pregnant could trigger you - those thoughts are in here, so make your own deicision to read or not
> 
> I can't believe we are at Part 5. Thanks to those who have read their way through the series, you are very much appreciated. If you joined us just for this ride, you are also appreciated.
> 
> I hope I got all the errors in here. If not, apologies.

“This is one of my good ideas isn’t it?”

The dark-haired man didn’t respond. He knew that this was a rhetorical question. 

“I mean, I know I’m not responsible for Frank or anything. But nobody’s seen him for days. He hasn’t been on Twitter, Instagram or Facebook.” His taller, sandy-haired companion continued babbling, trying to convince himself that he was doing the right thing.

"That doesn't mean anything 's happened to him." There were times when Mikey got a touch melodramatic. This thing with Frank was one of them.

“No, I know it doesn’t Pete,” Mikey shot back. “I’d feel better though knowing he’s ok.”

Pete sighed. Did he really have to explain this situation? Frank had been lied to and cheated on by his boyfriend of three years, had overcompensated too much to fast after the breakup and had now hit the wall of pain and despair. “Er, dumbass, he isn’t going to be ok!”

Mikey shot his boyfriend a withering look. Of course, he knew Frank wasn’t ok emotionally. Who would be? But he had to know that Frank was ok physically. One last check of social media before they got in the elevator to the 12th floor. If Frank wasn't posting inane shit to his accounts something was most definitely not ok, and intervention was called for. 

"Ring the bell, Pete," Mikey said as they approached the front door of Frank's apartment.

“Why me?” 

"Because…he's more likely to open the door if he sees it's you."

Pete wasn’t entirely convinced. He was only Frank’s friend because they had both been dating the Way brothers. “Great,” he grumbled, “so now I’m your stooge as well as your moral support!”

“Just ring the goddamn bell.”

Pete did as instructed. They waited. Nobody answered.

“Ring it again.”

“What if he genuinely isn’t at home?”

“His car is parked out in the street.”

“He could’ve gone for a walk……”

“He hasn’t. Now RING THE BELL!”

Mikey pressed his ear to the door, listening for movement. Pete shook his head. His boyfriend was seriously overdramatising this. "You're not acting weird at all Mikey," he muttered under his breath, but just loud enough that Mikey could hear.

Mikey lost patience with Pete, who hadn’t yet rung the doorbell again. Mikey jammed his finger to the bell. He thought he heard music in the apartment. Frank was in there. He wasn’t going to take his finger of the bell until Frank opened the door.

Behind the door, music was indeed playing. The stereo was alternating between really depressing and really angry music. In the very middle of the living room was a pile of cut-up remnants of clothing and a few personal belongings. Surrounding them were empty beer bottles and cigarette butts. Sitting in the midst of this carnage sat a man with dark, sunken holes were his eyes should have been, hollowed cheeks and straggly, greasy dark hair. A cigarette was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. One hand held a bottle of beer; the other was playing with a lighter. His eyes flitted between the lighter and the clothing as if considering whether to set the whole lot on fire. Instead, he drained the bottle. As he tossed it to join the others, he hauled himself up from the floor and shuffled into the kitchen to grab another. 

Whoever was at the door was being persistent. Didn't they get he wasn't going to answer? He couldn't see anyone right now. Three months and it wasn't getting better; in fact, it was hurting more. When he had first thrown Gerard out, he was incensed. It was easier back then to carry on and pretend that they could both move on with their lives. He had partied harder, posted more and tried in every which way he could to prove that he was alright with things as they were. Then the pain hit. Now it wouldn't leave. It was the monkey on his back. The devil continually whispering in his ear. His phone beeped. 

Text message: “It’s me at the door. Open up. Pete.”

Motherfucker. That meant Mikey was there too. As silently as his drunken state would allow, he crept to the door to confirm. Sure as eggs were eggs, Mikey was there - the idiot leaning on the doorbell. Frank sank down against the door. An even bigger wave of pain and grief sweeping over him. 

Text message from Pete: “Frank, open up man. I know you’re in there.” 

Text message from Pete: “I can hear my texts arriving Frank. “

Text message from Frank: “Fuck off & Mikey too. I know he’s there.”

Exasperated Mikey yelled through the door. "Open the fucking door, Frank. We just want to know you're doing alright."

“I said- FUCK OFF!”

"Not going till you open up," Mikey replied.

The yelling continued through the door for another couple of minutes. Mikey trying to get Frank to open the door. Frank telling Mikey and Pete to leave him alone.

"Look, shithead, the guy told you to go away. Just do it." An irate neighbour had come out into the hallway. "The rest of the floor had enough of this fucking drama months ago. If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the cops.”

Pete grabbed Mikey’s arm pulling him back towards the elevator. “Come on. He’s not going to let us in.”

*A diner in the next town*  
At a diner in the next town, a man with fire red hair sat nursing a cup of coffee. His phone, notebook and a sketchbook lay on the table in front of him, along with an untouched omelette.

“More coffee, Hun?”

“Uh, oh yeah. Actually, could you leave the pot?”

The waitress nodded giving him a sympathetic look. Her eyes were drawn to the picture the man had been working on. It seemed to match the dark, oppressive aura that clung to him – an image of death and destruction in charcoal.

Listlessly he picked up his phone. As he pressed the button a full screen of text messages and missed calls greeted him. He knew they were there and who sent them. He was deliberately ignoring his brother. Why did Mikey always want to fix things? Why did Mikey think that he wanted his baby brother to sort his problems for him? It wasn’t like any of this was Mikey’s doing. He was responsible for the shitty mess he had gotten himself into.

He gulped down his coffee as he opened his e-mails. Thumbing through the junk, his eyes rested on the one he was looking for. A commission enquiry from a fledgeling record label wanting some ideas for a logo and other branding stuff. Better get an idea of the acts they represented and their musical genres. He had been researching for a while, making some notes, when his phone rang again. This one he had to take.

“Hi. How’d it go? Ok. Want me to come pick you up? Give me ten. I’ll settle up here and be right over.”

*Mikey & Pete’s apartment*  
“So, neither of you have heard or seen anything?”

“No Mikey. Frank and Gerard are big boys. They can sort this shit out or not as they chose.”

“But don’t you guys worry about the way Frank’s behaving?”

"He's dealing with it in his own way," Bob stated in a deadpan tone.

“It’s not as if Gerard’s talking to any of us either is it?” Ray added.

Pete put his hand protectively on Mikey's squeezing it. "I get this is probably harder on you than the rest of us. It's your brother and your friend, but Bob and Ray are right. Frank and Gerard must sort this out themselves. You didn’t force them together. You didn’t split them up. It’s not yours to fix.”

Mikey pouted, knowing Pete was right. Gee was a fucking idiot who’d got himself into this ridiculous situation. Frank was a grown man who had his ways of dealing with shit, even if they seemed somewhat extreme to anyone else. But seeing them, both distraught was tearing him apart. A small part of him was excited at the thought of being an uncle, not something he had thought would happen. Although, the circumstances of it really sucked. He wouldn’t give up on getting through to Frank though. It wasn’t right that he had to lose a good friend because his brother was an impulsive dick.

Bob seemed to be rooted in thought since he had last spoken. Suddenly he piped up. "I have an idea. I think we might be able to entice Frank out of his apartment. He won't come out to a bar or the movies, but he might go to a gig. Anyone know who's playing at the Irving or the Vogue?"

“No, but I’ll give Trick a call, see what he knows.”

“No Gerard though Mikey. Just Frank” Bob cautioned.

“I know Bob. As Ray said he isn’t talking to any of us anyway – even me.” Mikey responded dejectedly.

*Outside the Vogue Theatre – one week later*  
Somehow Pete's friend Patrick had managed to acquire five tickets to a sold-out Bad Religion show. As Bob had predicted, the promise of live music had lured Frank out of his apartment. Well, someone who shared Frank's physical characteristics had joined them. It wasn't really Frank. The man standing in the queue with them was a hollow shell of their friend. 

"Please, could you at least pretend to be sober until we get inside!"

“Here’s some gum. CHEW!”

Ray took off his jacket and handed it to Frank. “Put it on and give me yours. Do it up. It might help mask the stench of brewery coming from your direction.”

"I'm not some drunken bum charity case," Frank grumbled.

“We know,” all four chorused in unison. 

“Just want to make sure we ALL get in,” Bob added, looking directly at Frank as he emphasised the word “all”. 

“Trick pulled in a few favours for this,” Pete said giving Frank a warning look. “Don’t make him look like a fuckwit by making a scene.”

Frank huffed. Sensing the futility of arguing any further, he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to Ray. Having handed his over to Ray, Frank slipped on Ray’s jacket which was obviously too big for him.

ID’s and tickets checked, with Frank holding his breath as the security guy checked his so as not to breath several bottles of beer over him, the five men made their way to the venue’s bar.

“You aren’t having any more beer. Water or soda.” Mikey gestured at Frank as he spoke.

“Fucking hell Mikey! You’re not my nursemaid. I think I can decide for myself whether I want another beer or not.”

"Calm down Frank," Pete hissed. "No scenes. Just get him a sodding beer will you Mikey. Hopefully, he'll burn some of it off in the pit."

*Same time – a couple of towns away*  
Another Friday night in front of Netflix. It wasn’t that he and Frank had gone out every Friday night, but now it was the same old thing week after week. He had pretty seriously loused things up. Only one person to blame for his situation. Himself. If he hadn’t been so impulsive and allowed his hurt to turn into a desire for revenge and one-upmanship, things might have been different. The air in the apartment was stifling. He was suffocating.

“I’m going for a drive. I need to get out.”

“Going to a bar more like!”

“No, I said I’m going for a drive, not drinking.”

“Uh-uh,” she shrugged. “Whatever.”

“Believe it or don’t Lyndsey, your choice,” he spat back as he grabbed his keys. “Don’t bother waiting up,” he called out, slamming the door behind him.

He just sat in the car, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He hadn't turned the ignition on yet. He didn't even know where he was going; he just knew that out was better than the slow agonising death that awaited him if he stayed in her apartment. Every day he remained there he could feel another part of him slipping away.

"Turn the fucking key and drive the goddamn car, Gerard!" He scolded himself out loud. As the car sparked into life, he checked to see how much gas was in the tank. Enough to drive for a couple of hours. He eased it into gear and slipped out of the parking bay. The radio station was playing a set of 90s grunge. Music to slit your wrists to! Suited his mood. A few tracks later, Soul Asylum's Runaway Train came on, and the tears began to flow freely down his face. The lyrics spoke so accurately into his situation. His life did feel like a runaway train going the wrong way on a one-way track right now. He was tired, jaded all the fun and mystery of life seemed to have faded, leaving him looking for ways to deal with the pain that was eating away at him. But there was one thing to look forward to, a son or daughter of his own. Even if he had no idea how much more of living with Lyndsey he could take, three months was enough to know it would never last, he knew had to remain in his child’s life. He couldn’t just walk away. He was trapped until he figured out how to be in his or her life in a meaningful way without being with someone he really didn’t love, or as it turned out even care for that much. Revenge hadn’t exactly been sweet.

Brushing away his tears, he struggled to keep his focus on the road. He realised he had been driving in circles around the neighbouring towns for almost two hours. Now he needed gas. Not just the car, but him too. He pulled into the nearest gas station to fill up but couldn’t bring himself to drink gas station coffee. He’d drive to back to his usual diner. Their coffee was tolerable.

When he got there the parking lot looked pretty full, so instead of fighting his way around it, he opted to park on the street. He was just about to tell the girl behind the welcome desk that he would take a seat at the counter when he caught sight of five familiar faces at a corner table. He froze open-mouthed for a second as the sight registered. Once it had, he closed his mouth without saying a word. Immediately he spun on his heel, beating a hasty retreat from the diner.

Before he reached the safety of his car, someone had grabbed hold of his arm, restraining him. Mikey.

"Get off Mikes. Let me go. There are other places to get coffee."

“No Gee. We need to talk.”

“Who’s we Mikey. You want all six of us to have a conversation,” he snarled sarcastically.

"Don't be moronic. You and I need to talk. You've been ignoring me." Mikey paused before adding, "you and Frank do need to talk at some point soon too though."

"No, we don't. It's over. Done." Gerard tried to free himself from his brother's grip. The more he did so; the tighter Mikey held on.

“It’s not fair to Frank for me just to show up. I don’t want to hurt him anymore.” Frank’s social media absence hadn’t gone unnoticed by Gerard. He had been checking to see what Frank had posted after Frank had thrown him out. When he saw that the excessive partying had stopped, and radio silence commenced, he understood how badly his ex was hurting.

“Yeah, but what about what's fair to you? I can't just let you walk away. I mean it's obvious you've been crying." Mikey softened his grip, hoping his brother wouldn't run. "Hey, we brought Pete's car, and I've only had one beer, so what say I let him stay with the others, and I drive your car back to ours so that we can talk. You can stay the night too.

"Thanks, Mikes." Gerard honestly felt relieved. He didn't want to burden his baby brother with his issues, but talking to someone rational and not hormonal might help him to figure out the least painful way for all parties for Gerard to disentangle himself from the mess he was in. He couldn't remember telling anyone how things had got to this state since he had to confess to Frank about Lyndsey and the baby.

*Back at the diner*  
After Mikey had gone, Frank asked the question that was lingering like the elephant in the room. They had decided to go for food after the gig, and this was the only place open that was central to where they all lived. To be honest, he had only come because he needed the ride. It was that, a cab, or worse still the bus back to his apartment. Although he hadn't left it for a while, he also didn't want to go back there by himself. It hadn't clicked that the diner was also in the same town in which Gerard now lived. Even if it had he would still have come seeing as the chances of Gerard being there late on a Friday night were pretty slim. But why else would Mikey run out like that? Let alone then come back in to whisper something in Pete's ear before leaving without giving anyone else an explanation.

“Mikey saw Gerard, didn’t he?”

"Nah, don't be paranoid. He wasn't feeling well, so when some fresh air didn't help he decided to get a cab home." Pete hoped he sounded convincing enough. It seemed quite lame to him.

"Don't fucking bullshit me Pete. I'm neither an idiot nor a child." Frank leant across the table. "Tell me the truth. He's gone with his piece of shit brother, hasn't he?"

Pete hesitated not sure what to say. Frank had a hair trigger at the best of times.

“…and don’t even try to wriggle out of it Wentz.” Frank had turned a shade of deep red in his rage. His fists balled up in an effort to control himself.

"Yes, Frank. He has," Pete offered resignedly.

Bob and Ray shared concerned glances. A good evening out that had appeared to have dragged Frank somewhat out of the pit he had thrown himself into had been blown up in a matter of minutes. Neither wanted to leave Pete alone with Frank in this state. The odds on it ending well weren't high. Equally, what could they add to ease the tension?

Bob reached into his wallet. Throwing twenty bucks on the table, he made his excuses and left. Pete shot Ray a pleading look. A look that clearly said, "HELP, don't leave me." Ray did the only other thing he could think of.

"Hey Frank, want a ride home?" A look of relief flashed across Pete's face. But it was too soon to claim escape.

"Thanks, Ray, but I'm not going anywhere until he," pointing at Pete, "tells me what's going on."

"Stop acting like an imbecile Frank. It's the beer talking, not you. Nothing is going on. Mikey is entitled to talk to his brother you know. Just because he's your friend, he can't simply stop being Gerard’s brother. Even if Gerard is a complete asshole." He added the last statement partly because he thought it was true and partly because he hoped it would placate Frank a tiny bit, so he would start to calm down. 

Ray gestured to him that it was time for all three of them to leave. Frank’s outburst hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other patrons. Ray signalled for the check for before they were asked to leave.

*Half an hour later*  
Mikey’s phone vibrated. Gerard watched as a strange look formed on his brother’s face as he tried to stifle an expletive. Then Mikey’s tell-tale worried sign appeared. He pursed his lips, pretending not to be chewing on his bottom lip, but as his big brother, Gerard had seen this countless time before, so he wasn’t fooled. He didn’t let on though.

Mikey reread the text.

Text message: “Keep Gerard with you. Just fed F a couple of shots to get him to come back with me. Knows you went after G. Doesn’t know G at ours. XoXo P”

Mikey looked up at his brother. “Pete’s on his way back. He already knows you’re staying.”

Text message Mikey to Pete: “You really want WW3 in here tonight?”

Text message Pete to Mikey: “No. Can’t stand to see you crack up caught in the middle of F & G though. See you in a bit.”

“Drink?” Mikey offered.

“Coffee.”

“Nothing stronger? Might help loosen your tongue a bit.” Gerard hadn’t said anything much since agreeing to go back to Mikey & Pete’s. He wanted the company, but the more he thought about his situation, the less able he felt to talk about it without sounding like a petulant child.

"Hell no! It's partly my insane relationship with alcohol that got me into this mess. I'm trying to stay off the stuff." What Gerard didn't add was that he felt that if he started drinking, he might just find that there was no bottom to the bottle. It might become his solace. He still had enough sanity to know that wasn't a place he wanted to end up.

“Suit yourself. I’m still having one though” Shit Mikey thought, this was a recipe for disaster. Sober impulsive Gerard and drunk always looking for a fight Frank. A slightly tipsy Gee would have been an easier match – alcohol made him more maudlin and less hair trigger.

While Mikey was making the coffee, he heard keys in the door. “Hi sweetheart,” he called hoping to delay the inevitable clash of the two hot-headed ex-lovers. 

But Pete wasn’t playing along. “Hope it’s ok, I brought someone else with me.”

Simultaneously, Gerard and Frank realised that Mikey and Pete had played the two of them.

“Well played! Also fucking stupid,” Gerard shouted angrily.

"Assholes!" Frank growled. Even in his alcohol-induced haze, he could now make sense of why Pete had been so insistent that Frank go back to Pete's place to the point of feeding him more liquor.

Pete pushed Frank towards the living room. At the sight of each other, Frank and Gerard looked like Halloween cats facing off against each other, hackles up, hissing and ready to pounce at any second. Frank made the first move. He was too slow. Gerard ducked the slap aimed at the side of his face.

“Why would you think for one moment I would want to see, let alone speak to this cheating bastard,” Frank screamed.

"Stop playing the innocent," Gerard yelled back, moving out of Frank's reach. "You want them all to think that you're Mr Fucking Perfect. The righteous good Catholic boy who got fucked over when Gerard Way couldn't keep it in his pants. But you aren't, Frank Perfect Iero, are you? Bet you didn't tell them that you also fancied a different flavour. That instead of the faithful wronged boyfriend, you are nothing more than a filthy little whore…"

“At least I wasn’t the supposedly gay guy who thought vagina was more satisfying!”

“That’s all you’re worried about? That I found some slut’s vagina better than your ass? You pathetic, insecure, arrogant little bastard!”

Pete had to hold Mikey back. “You have to let them fight this out Mikes,” he whispered.

"Yeah, Mikey – 4 different guys. It seems like our precious darling Frankie got a serious case of the three-year itch," Gerard spat venomously.

“I didn’t have an ongoing affair….”

“Which one of you two morons thought this would work?” Gerard turned on Mikey and Pete. “I told you it was done. Yeah, I screwed things up badly for myself. I’m trapped now with a kid I hadn’t expected on the way. I can’t just abandon Lyndsey. I don’t know what to do next, but this, whatever the fuck this was is destroy…”

He never got to finish his sentence. Frank’s fist collided with his jaw.

"Motherfucker!" Gerard swung back. As he was sober, he connected with more force sending Frank reeling. Frank scrambled back up to his feet, ready for another go. Instead, he lost his balance falling forward into Gerard. Both men ended up sprawled on the floor. Even then Frank didn't stop trying to lash out at his ex-lover. However, with Gerard being sober he had much better command of his coordination and movement, if not his faculties as the red mist had descended. He soon had Frank pinned to the floor and was pummelling his face, as Frank thrashed around wildly to free himself.

Momentarily Mikey and Pete stood transfixed letting the scene play out. Then Mikey came to his senses and hauled his brother of Frank, not before Frank had, more by luck than judgement, managed to land a kick right to Gerard’s crotch.

"Stop the children from killing each other Mikes; I'll get some ice." Pete walked off to raid the icebox. When he came back, Frank and Gerard were sitting on opposite sides of the room. Frank holding his face, and Gerard doubled over still in agony from Frank's lucky strike. Mikey & Pete exchanged glance, giggling at the absurdity of the scene.

“Ok,” said Pete with an air of authority and ‘don’t you dare fuck with me’ to his voice, “now that you’ve got that out of your system, do you think the two of you can have a sensible conversation? There must be a solution that doesn’t involve either one of you killing each other or both of you drowning in your private miseries.”

Frank and Gerard glared at Pete. Did he really think anything was salvageable out of this clusterfuck? Frank’s serial infidelities and Gerard’s heterosexual affair which now also brought a baby into the mix. Love, hate, anger, jealousy, misery, depression so many emotions flying around, so little space for rational thought. However, they both knew that Pete made a good point. This situation was destroying both of them. It was also clearly hurting Mikey badly, which in turn would strain Mikey & Pete’s relationship. Neither man wanted to cause anyone else any pain. Nevertheless, neither was sure that they had it in them to resolve the situation to a level where they could co-exist in the same space, let alone begin to think about friendship, or rebuilding their relationship. Gerard and Frank sat holding ice packs to the lumps and bruises they had caused each other as they considered the possibility that they might be willing to try.

**Author's Note:**

> So - it's up to you can Frank and Gerard ever be togehter again? I think not, but then again I have a dark, angsty soul with little romance in it, you might have them find a Way!
> 
> As always I love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can post them up here or find me lurking on Twitter (@morgawse_hp).
> 
> The finale to this series and two new fics are underway! I know I keep promising them but they are, I promise - Trust Me!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Broken Hearts Parade](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029578) by [Morgawse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/Morgawse)




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